


Bucky

by InaMint



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Remembers, F/M, Mentions of Sex, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:14:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26138698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InaMint/pseuds/InaMint
Summary: Bucky is recovering, living with his girl in Europe. Some things are starting to come back to him - and some of them will be a real revelation to her. At the same time she has her own demons and maybe that's what's keeping them together./I'll summ more when I... write... more./
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s), James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

‘Bucky’ you spoke, closing a book lying on your lap. ‘Who’s Steve?’

The man behind you stiffened immediately, which made you feel a small sting of sadness, even though you knew that it shouldn’t. Last couple of weeks were dream-like. Long days spend peacefully – mostly cooking or walking, or laying on the couch, like today – and nights full of closeness, even if sometimes you had to wake him up from a nasty nightmare. Things were good and familiar – but weeks are not years and even if you felt closer to him than anyone else in your life, there were still secrets. Problems. Memories he couldn’t bring himself to talk about. 

Not that it was a big deal. It didn’t anger you; just sadden. And it seemed to have the same effect on him. At the beginning he was impatient when he couldn’t remember something and then furious, when the memory came, and with it the realization of his wrongdoings. But now bursts of madness changed into stiffening remorse and guilt. No matter how many times you would assure him that it wasn’t really him, that he wasn’t responsible for all of that… He wouldn’t let it go, and you understood.

Now, you felt something else coming from him, something like nostalgia, longing for something he had lost. It radiated from him, from those long stares at nothing that he was losing himself into. Arguably, that was better than trashing the apartment in violent rages, but what was you supposed to do? You could tame the beast. How do you give someone their past? 

And then that name. Steve. Mumbled in his sleep, again and again. Softly, peacefully, sometimes even cravingly. Bucky almost never had a quiet night, things stirring in his mind, flashes of violet memories rummaging through his brain whenever he put his guard down. Yet recently something else appeared. Someone else.

The body behind you moved, the man sitting straight. You pushed yourself from between his legs, staring at him carefully. 

‘How do you know his name?’

‘You talk about him in your sleep’

He didn’t seem surprised, probably aware of his dreams.

‘I…’ he started, his eyes moving rapidly, but as if he was searching his brain, not the room. Searching for a memory or a lie? You didn’t know why you would think that. He didn’t lie to you, or it never seemed like he did. When he didn’t want to say something, he just stayed silent. 

‘Buck, I don’t want to impose your privacy. I know you’d told me if you could, but… He seems important. Somehow. Is it someone from your past? Someone good?’

‘He’s… yeah. All of that.’ He said, crocking this head to look at you, with a too-quick-to-last smile. 

That felt like a relief. At least it wasn’t a nightmare, going after him. Unless…

‘Did you… Did you do something to him?’

Even before you can finish he’s on his feet, standing on the balcony, his tense back all you can see. Now you regret starting all of this. He was good for so long, taking one step at a time, only for you to bring up something like this.

‘I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to…’ You go to the balcony, standing at the other end, ready to make him forget you asked in the first place. But he doesn’t look angry, at you nor at himself, his metal arm tightly closed on the barrier the only sign of emotions going through him. 

Sadness in his eyes when he looks at you is worse to see than rage. 

‘Tell me what happened’ you ask quietly, hoping he knows he’s safe here, safe to confess everything he ever did. And maybe he knows that, because after scanning your face for a while he sights, turning his head back to the city below and he starts talking. 

‘We were friends, back in the days. 20s and 30s in New York, two punks from Brooklyn trying to live their lives in those fucked up years. Always together. Ninety percent of that time was me, trying to get him out of the trouble. He was too good for all of this, and way too small.’ A little chuckle escaped his mouth, but like the smile earlier, it was interrupted by a flash of pain. 

‘When the war came, we both enrolled, Steve… after some trouble. Other units, other cities, a month apart. I thought I won’t see him again, but he was the one to find me. Before all of this’ he swayed his artificial hand. 

‘So... He died in the war?’ You ask, as silence falls again, and you feel that he’s not telling you something.

‘No. He was the one who brought me back.’


	2. Chapter 2

‘Brought you back? What do you mean?’ you ask, your brows furrowed.

‘He helped me to snap out of this. The influence.’

‘But that was three months ago.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Wait, Bucky… If he was your friend then and he helped you just now… Is he like you? Is he Hydra?’

‘He is the opposite of everything Hydra ever stood for.’

‘But you said there weren’t any more like you. You know, strong, almost indestructible and going on eighty.’ 

‘You’ve been living under a rock, haven’t you?’ he smiles a little.

‘Oh, excuse me for not checking an ID on every muscular man. It’s enough that you’re here and that Captain guy is running around across the sea, I don’t think we need any more…’

No way. 

‘Bucky. Is your friend fucking Captain America?’ Your eyes widen, your brain still refusing that turn of events. 

‘Yeah, pretty much.’

Fuck. Of all the possible stories you wouldn’t come up with that one. Captain Patriotism Impersonated? The alien fighting golden boy? How? But more importantly –

‘Why you’re not with him? If he’s out there and he knows about you… Why are you here?’

‘That doesn’t change anything.’ He says and goes back inside, leaving you more confused than ever. You can sense the finality in his voice but for once it doesn’t put you off. 

‘The only person who knew you from before… who knew you your whole life… your best friend! He’s out there and you say it doesn’t change anything? He could help you!’

‘He already did.’ He’s not looking at you, pretending to dry the dishes. 

‘What? Broke the brainwashing mojo? And let you go, alone, struggling with all the things around you?’

‘It’s not his mess.’

‘He’s the only one who can understand what you’re going through and he left you?’ You ask, disgusted.

‘He didn’t leave me.’ 

‘You’re on another continent, alone and scared, your mind fucked up, raging through years of emotional and physical abuse, unable to focus for more than a couple of hours…’

‘He didn’t leave me!’ His scream is accompanied by a cup shattering on the floor. You take a step back, your legs brushing the couch you both stayed on just ten minutes ago.

‘Then why you are here, alone. And why he’s there, saving the world.’ You hope calmness in your voice will stabilize him too.

‘And how do you imagine that would work?’ He sneers. ‘Captain America and a Soviet assassin, working together? He’s good. He’s the personification of good deeds. My kill list is longer than the equator.’

‘I told you, it wasn’t you.’

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘Yes, it does! You were brainwashed!’

‘He won’t understand.’

‘I understand you.’

‘Because you’re as fucked up as me! Evil always finds it’s keen.’

He grabs his jacket and slams the door behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

The door opened slowly and soon you felt the familiar weight laying down on the mattress behind your back. 

‘I’m sorry.’ 

You don’t know what time it is but it has to be late. You spent hours, lying in bed, unable to sleep alone for the first time in months. Wondering when – and which one – Bucky will come back. Feeling all of this too theatrical, really. You had dozens of fights, but they were all him getting angry at himself, not at you. Once or twice maybe, when he got upset at your ‘salvation speech’ as he called it, but he was mostly battling his own demons. You didn’t get upset about the toilet seat being up and he didn’t comment on you being nice to random men, other than to tease you in bed. You were never angry at each other. 

He never brought up what you did in the past in any way than calm manor. Maybe that was the thing? Maybe you were too fucking calm around each other? You thought you were blowing up steam in bed, in those long marathons of rough sex. Maybe it wasn’t enough. 

Or maybe it was the secrets. The past you knew not much about, and apparently present, way messier than you thought. 

Lost in your running thoughts you let out a small whimper. 

‘Hey, I’m here, and I’m really sorry.’ He tried again, getting closer and hugging his chest to your back, and leaving a kiss on the crook of your neck. 

‘I didn’t want to say that, just… You know I don’t think that.’

‘Actually, I think that you do.’

‘And I think we both think we can hurt each other in order to keep ourselves from hurting.’

That wasn’t what you expected to hear from him.

‘Aren’t we both fucked up.’

‘Yeah, sounds about right.’ Smile in his voice made you turn to face him. 

‘Bucky, this whole thing… That’s a lot to unpack.’ 

‘That’s why I wasn’t going to.’

‘Well, it unpacks itself when you’re not watching. I heard you calling Steve dozens of times.’

‘I dream about him lately.’ 

‘He means a lot to you, doesn’t he?’

‘He was my friend.’

In the dark you couldn’t see his face.

‘He was your special friend, wasn’t he?’

The silence was met with his loud laugh, confusing you even more.

‘What?’

‘“Special friend”? Really? _Are_ we in the 1920s?’

‘Well, I don’t know’ you scoffed. ‘Are you going to break anything else tonight?’

‘Sorry about that’ he said, his voice repentful again. 

‘James. Talk to me. We fuck, we watch stupid movies, we fuck some more. All that you focus on is every bad thing you did. Talk to me about some good stuff.’

‘There isn’t much.’

‘Yes, there is. You’re what, 30? That’s three decades of good stuff. Some stupid, some boring, maybe some murky, but… It’s you, your life. Maybe you don’t remember it all, but I can see it’s there. Every time you’re sad… you think about it, don’t you?’

‘Yeah’ he said, lowering his face, so all she could see now was the tip of his head.

You sighed, tired of his little half-words and running away. 

‘Ok, let’s not do this now. Now we sleep. But tomorrow we will sit and have a proper talk this time, right?’ 

'Right' he agreed and pulled you against him again.


End file.
